


Event Horizon

by Rohnoc



Category: Original Work
Genre: Inspired by Art, Poetry, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 23:20:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rohnoc/pseuds/Rohnoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We pass through edges from one to another</p>
            </blockquote>





	Event Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Kara Walker's 2005 mural, Event Horizon - http://www.flickr.com/photos/rocor/5480192696/

(Where does one end and the other begin? Where does I meet you, he and she? Where does us and we turn into they or them?)

_A hole in the earth, filled with light_

_not dark,_

_full of voices._

Turn around, look back.  The shadow advances upon you (me?), arm held up, switch raised, eyes glaring, feet stomping the dark earth.

You (don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink) step back and feel the edge beneath my feet.  
And in an instant, falling away, fighting the instinct to stay upright, the inexorable pull of space

  
                  I am,  
                                 you are,  
                                                    gone.

  


_The tunnel (rabbit hole perhaps, down and down and off to Wonderland) twists._

It seems to be the gullet of a great monster, swallowing talk and cries as it breathes with sighs and whispers.  We slide down into the beast’s stomach, feeling the loose scrabble of dirt and rocks against our hands and feet.

There are two at a tight bend in the passageway, traveling as opposites toward each other.

One seems jolly,  
waving as he tumbles down  
the other _(worried, panicked, clawing)_  
reaches imploringly toward the reveler,  
begging for a hand up

Are they afraid of the tight space, the dark, the feeling that the surface is somewhere high above?

But the pass is bright; the hole much bigger than it seemed at first.

Isn't it? 

Next is a mother, child strapped to her back.  We feel a pull and a slide (one mind to another, taking us with it), then ...

          we are crouched, half-lying, in a dip in the earth.  Hands over our face, stunned, shocked, nearly crying with the joy (of freedom, of life) and loss (of sky, of direction).  The child grips our collar as our own matron reaches toward us.

We slip further

                        down,

                        down,

                        slide to meet

          a child now, getting tired, bored as the excitement of new spaces and tunnels wears off.  She rests, back against a ledge, one foot extended, just brushing the opposing wall.  

We rest with her, knowing the draw of adventure will return, and I'll be back in the long dark soon.


End file.
